


Ugly Wrist Are Worth The Sun

by orphan_account



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: I would have done more, M/M, but I have bangs to do, idk - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-09
Updated: 2015-02-09
Packaged: 2018-03-11 10:03:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3323387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone has their soulmate's name on their wrist, and Stiles hates his.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ugly Wrist Are Worth The Sun

Stiles hated his wrist or better yet, he hated the name that seemed to be etched his skin, leaving pink scars. He hadn’t really cared when he was younger, but now it was different. Now, he noticed that people had beautiful cursive or blocky letters. He noticed that peoples’ soulmates names were written in a beautiful manner. In fun colors or nice fonts. Once or twice he had even seen them in rough translations of enochian.

The letters pushed past flesh, not only appearings as scars but being ones. More than on one occasion had they gotten infected, which had always lead to a doctor wondering why the boy would carve a name in. _(“No, Doc. I was born this way. Tell ‘em, Dad.”)_ Many people had even guessed that Stiles had been born without a name, so he had chosen a pretty general name it scribed it into his flesh.

This was not true of course. Stiles Stilinski had a name like everyone else, a very simple name. One that made it so impossibly hard to know if he had met his soulmate or not.

Scott.

Rigid lines that were constantly on his skin, swollen and puffy compared to the rest of his smooth, pale skin. They were an eye sore, and if he ever met his soul mate he didn’t know if he’d bare sympathy or punch them in the face. Because, quite honestly, he’d prefer to be completely nameless. He’d prefer to meet a nice gal or gent who thought the whole business of soul mates was bullshit and settle down with them.

Instead, he had Scott’s name. Which wasn’t helpful as all because Stiles had met four Scotts in the past two years. And to all four of them, the attraction had fell flat and poor. He’d only tried to pursue one of them, but only because he at least had a sense of humor. Now though, Stiles had declared to stop looking for his soul mate, to enjoy the ride of this crazy thing called life. He wore long sleeved shirts almost all the time or put concealer on to hide the marks when he wore t-shirts. It was a hard and tiring process, but it was worth it if no one saw. These days were easier than when he was growing up.

Growing up with his best friend was awful because she met hers at the age of twelve. Lydia had ran over to Stiles house, knocking at his door, large grin on her face.

“I found her, Stiles!” Lydia exclaimed loudly, voice echoing throughout the empty house, pulling him into a tight hug.

“Found who?” Still, Stiles wrapped a lanky arm around her, understanding that this was something to be celebrated. Just as he began to, she pulled back, rolling her sleeve up to show him. The rustic brown which is neat cursive spelt out, “Allison.”

“Allison. She lives in the town over. I was just at the museum with Dad and I heard someone yelling for her, and I don’t know. But I found her! And even better, she has my name too!” Lydia’s face wore the brightest smile he can recall. All teeth.

Ever since then, Lydia had been a hopeless romantic. She believed that everyone should and could meet their soul mate. That it was like the movies, one day you’d bump into them and question why you would have never wanted to meet them.

It was sweet. It really was. Stiles was in love with her optimism. He doesn’t have it, nor does he wish he did. But for Lydia, it could work because Lyds was such a pessimistic person on nearly everything except soul mates. Which is why he allowed Lydia to set him up with every Scott she could grab her hands on.

So, why is he shocked when he gets to the diner and sees a boy instead of Lydia sitting down at the booth. Scowling at his phone, he reads a text he had missed on his way there.

**Lydia:**

**1:21 pm**

**Have fun ;)**

Walking over, Stiles does his best not to fall over his feet. He’s got his car keys in hand and a tune on his lips. He has to remind himself that there is no real pressure because who need soul mates?

The man stands up when he catches sight of Stiles, jutting a hand out.

This makes Stiles laugh as he take the hand. They inspect each other, and for a moment Stiles thinks he feels electricity run through his hand.

He’s tall but not quite as tall as Stiles. His hair is long and curls at the edges, eyes resembling thick syrup. He’s fit, muscular. Well, okay, everyone is muscular compared to Stiles, but this guy had tone and definition. His lips quirk up in a smile, showing off brilliant white canine teeth, and Stiles can’t look away. The boy oozes of kindness and happiness; he is the sun.

Scott scans him in a less noticeable way, focusing on Stiles face. It’s rounder, cheek bones edging out, covered in a little forest of moles. His oak eyes are illuminated by the pale skin that stretches over the soft chin. He’s the woods at night; something familiar to Scott.

“Let me guess, your name is Scott?” This seems to puzzle Scott, eyebrows shooting up on both of their faces.

“How’d you know?” Scott tilts his head ever so slightly, resembling a puppy or a confused child. It’s adorable, and it kind of makes Stiles smile a bit. Kind of. Okay, it does.

“Lydia only sets me up with boys named Scott. She’s kind of on a witch hunt for my soulmate,” This is accompanied with an eye roll. He’s had this conversation before, usually the guy will reply with a cocky smile and some dumb comment.

“I’m not going to get burned on a cross, am I?” Scott jokes, finally letting go of Stiles’ hand and sliding back into the booth. Stiles finds himself chuckling a bit.

“Nah, guys like us, we get sticks thrown at us.” Stiles slides into the booth that stares opposite at him.

“Lydia never told me your name. By the way.” Scott tacts onto the end, looking a bit nervous.

“I go by Stiles.”

“Nice to meet you, Stiles.”

And they order burgers and shakes. It’s hard to tell who eats more and who laughs more. Stiles swears he’ll have to show Scott Star Wars. Scott tells him that Stiles will have to go to one of his lacrosse games these days. It’s like a damn movie scene, them leaning closer as the night proceeds. When the night comes to a close, Scott pulls out his wallet. Stiles spots this though, and whips his to their waitress.

“Dude, you didn’t have to do that.” Scott replies, slowly placing his bills back into the leather.  Stiles waves him off, a crooked grin on his face.

“I didn’t have to, but I wanted to. This is probably the nicest date I’ve ever had. Like ever.”

They’re cut off when the check comes back, and Scott grabs the receipt and card before Stiles can even get it.

“Genim?”

“There’s a reason I go by Stiles.” Scott rolls his eyes, a twinkle hidden in them, making Stiles add another comment. “Shut up.”

Scott rolls his eyes, small smile on his face,  not hesitating to life his ginger hoodie, showing marks forming five letters.

“Oh.” Stiles sounds breathless, a bit winded even.

“Yeah.” Smile shining through his voice.


End file.
